


Dreams and Talk of Dust

by irishfino



Series: We Rise From Dust [9]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, violent dream, vivid dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 00:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishfino/pseuds/irishfino
Summary: HR puts the twins to bed and is asked a question or three he's not quite sure how to answer just yet; a nightmare shows him just how different things could be.





	Dreams and Talk of Dust

                HR is putting Dawn and Donnie to bed, when Dawn strikes up a conversation he’s not ready to have with another person just yet.

                “H, do you love mommy?” Dawn asks.

                HR tucks her in a little tighter. “You’re avoiding sleep, but I’ll humor you. Yes, I love your mother very much. She’s a very special person and I’m very lucky to know her.”

                “Are you gonna marry her like Pawpaw is marrying Grammy Cece?”

                “That’s – I don’t – uhm,” he stutters. Kids always go straight for the gut with questions.

                “You’re not gonna marry her?” Dawn asks, her big brown eyes growing a little misty. “If you marry her, you can be our dad. Don’t you wanna be our dad?”

                “I don’t – I don’t know Dawnie,” he says quietly. “Things like this are complicated and your mother and I haven’t been dating for very long.”

                Her lower lip wobbles. “You don’t want to be our dad?”

                “Oh, no, don’t cry. It’s not that, Dawnie, it’s – this sort of thing is – I mean, I love you and Don as if you were my own kids. If your mother and I marry, I’d love to adopt you, but that’s far off into the future.”

                “Our daddy could travel to the future,” Don pipes up from across the room.

                “Right, but that’s very dangerous and I’m not a Speedster like he was,” HR replies.

                “You’re scared you’re gonna die like he did before he could marry mommy, aren’t you?” Dawn asks.

                “It’s bedtime,” he says gently. “Save your questions for another time.”

* * *

                The street looks the same. Everything looks the same, but he can _feel_ it’s different right now. For some reason, this moment is different. Then the scene unfolds in front of him. He’s yanked to his feet, confused and distressed as… _Barry_ begs – oh, gods. It’s _that_ moment. The moment that was fated to happen. But why is he in Iris’ position? That doesn’t make sense at all. Barry liked him, but he was nowhere near as important as Iris was to Barry. It clicks the moment he feels that spike pierce through his back, up and out through his _chest_. Not the heart, no, the technology doesn’t compress the body itself, but tearing through his lung is just as fatal and _gods_ it’s dark now. Instant death is a myth. Instant unconsciousness that appears to be instant death is not. Then he’s awake and Barry’s crying, confused, and, _gods_ , there’s Tracy. He can feel his mouth move, his breath hitch, blood fill his chest, yet he can’t hear any words spoken by anyone, can’t escape the feeling of slowly suffocating, and can’t keep himself conscious for much longer. He dies. And screams.

                His gasp for breath is loud and hoarse, the mad gulping of a dying man who can’t accept his fate. He bolts upright. Nothing looks right. He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. He knows where he _should_ be, but nothing looks right, nothing smells right. It’s off. It’s all off now. After a few moments of trying to catch his breath he lowers his left hand to his chest and feels for a wound he knows isn’t there, but, _gods_ , it had been there at some point. It had to have been. It _felt_ real. He could feel every groove of that damnable spike as it ripped through his flesh and bone. And the shuddering metal on bone induced vibrations that wracked his body.

                It’s only when his fingers begin digging into his own skin that he realizes that Iris is shaking him, asking him what’s wrong, and sounding increasingly panicked. He must have been unresponsive for too long.

                “Dream,” he says quietly. “Just a – a bad dream. Sorry I woke you.”

                “You _can_ talk to me, you know,” she replies just as quietly.

                “I – I know. It’s – it’s fresh, that’s all. And it was – was disturbing and you need your rest. I’ll be fine.”

                “You’re stuttering. You only do that when you’re stressed.”

                “It was bad. It was real bad. Just a bad, bad dream, Iris.”

                “Do you want some cocoa?”

                His smile is small. It won’t bring him any comfort, but it would make her feel better so he nods and watches her slip from the bed and into the hall. His frown returns. It had all felt so real. He didn’t want to think about it now, but it felt as if it was the only thing he _could_ think about. It would keep him awake, he knew that much.

                Iris returns ten minutes later with two mugs. She hands them both to HR before crawling back into bed. He takes them both – coffee and cocoa – and watches her climb back into the bed. Perhaps his dream was a reminder of the sacrifice it took to keep Iris alive. One of them was going to die anyway, right? It didn’t _have_ to be Iris, they just had to look like her for a little bit. How would he have come to that decision? He was obviously still with Tracy in the dream and he didn’t remember seeing a pregnant belly on his emulation of Iris’ body, but that didn’t mean much, right? No, no of course it meant _something_ significant. Barry hadn’t known about the twins and that Iris might not have been pregnant, but this only made sense if – he doesn’t have powers, especially not powers like Cisco.

                “I can hear you overthinking,” Iris says quietly.

                “Sorry,” he says quietly. “I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep tonight. It’s – that dream. Something’s wrong.” He gulps down most of the coffee before setting it and the cocoa on the nightstand. “I’ll have to talk to Cisco about it, but I should gather my thoughts first, write ‘em out, maybe.”

                “Did someone die in the dream?”

                “Yeah, but that’s not the disturbing part.”

                “What is?”

                “It – it feels – I – I have to talk to Cisco first. I have to know for sure. No sense in worrying if it turns out it was just a very vivid dream, right?”

                “Right,” she agrees slowly. “Try to get some sleep.”

                “Yeah. I’ll – we’ll see if I can manage.”

                He’s left alone with his thoughts until the sun rises. This is going to be one hell of a day.


End file.
